


More MorMor

by Mor_an_idiot_Mor_a_fool (Aelfay)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, be prepared, fics and drabbles, not a cohesive work, this is as violent as they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 4,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelfay/pseuds/Mor_an_idiot_Mor_a_fool
Summary: This is a collection of all the MorMor(MorMor) drabbles I used to have on Tumblr. As I'm slowly migrating off Tumblr, I wanted a place to put them all.These are in no way a cohesive story.





	1. Teens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on SinnerMoriarty's prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> Jim thinks Sebastian is the typical dumb jock but in actuality he’s very well read, intelligent, and talented in the arts
> 
> Sebastian thinks Jim is the typical nerd who only likes reading but in actuality he also has a wide range of interests
> 
> they get to know each other in detention (both there for separate reasons) and find out that they actually like each other’s company
> 
> both of them start talking to each other more and more in school which confuses everyone because it seems as if these two are polar opposites
> 
> they walk around the city talking about their dreams for the future
> 
> Jim talks about physics and astronomy and Sebastian is enraptured the entire time
> 
> Sebastian talks about possibly joining the army and Jim wants to talk him out of it but doesn’t
> 
> they both want to say so much to the other but don’t want to drive the other person away

 Jim hated having to stay after school.

It was less about the punishment, and more about the boredom. The professor knew he was right; it was more a show of power that had him stuck in this tiny room, waiting to be dismissed once his hour and a half was up.

But until he was dismissed, he had to sit. Bored. His homework he’d done in class, and he’d finished his book within the first ten minutes. Another ten minutes spent mapping out some of the mathematical dynamics of black hole physics and he. was. bored.

He had his head on the table and was trying to make it quiet down so he could sleep through the rest of this nonsense when a voice asked, “Why are you doing maths on spatial singularities? Mr. Foster has barely got us through the solar system yet. Matt still thinks Venus is the one with the rings.”

Jim didn’t move quickly, not wanting to let on that he’d not heard the older boy approach. He recognised the voice: Moran, rugby hero and terminal bore, constantly on the field and rarely talking about anything else. Jim had dismissed him nearly on sight at the beginning of term.

But here he was, recognising astronomical physics by nothing but the maths.

It was interesting. It might even be worth Jim’s time. Not that Moran needed to know that.

So he didn’t jump and he didn’t whip his head round to stare at the boy. Instead, he rolled his shoulders slowly, relishing the pull of muscle, then slowly flopped so his face was still pressed against the table, but he could look up at the boy.

“Why do you think?” he drawled lazily, watching Moran closely.

Moran blinked, then grinned. “Okay, yeah, stupid question. It’s boring in here. I guess the question I meant to ask is why you’re so far ahead. You must study at home?”

“Verrrry good!” Jim praised sarcastically, not raising his head, then let his eyes widen in a parody of innocence. “Who taught you to think so well?”

Straightening his stance, Moran didn’t respond to the taunt as Jim expected; most people got defensive, snapped back, or left. Instead he replied calmly, “I like maths. Don’t understand as much of the physics as I wish I did, but I tend to focus on the practical.”

“The projected trajectory of a rugby ball?” Jim asked, with a lilt to his tone that conveyed he wasn’t impressed.

“That and the flight of a bullet,” Moran shrugged. “Dad has a hunting range, but he doesn’t use it.”

“And you do,” Jim finished quickly, the first thing he’d said that wasn’t mocking in some way. He caught himself internally and frowned. Just because the kid was potentially useful didn’t mean he was worth Jim’s time.

“I’m decent with a rifle. Wish I had a long-distance setup though. Would like to get better with a scope,” replied Moran. He didn’t seem to have noticed Jim’s change of attitude, and in the silence after the statement Jim wondered if he was about to go find his own seat. Instead he cleared his throat and asked a moment later, “Mind if I sit here and read?”

Jim shrugged, shoulders rubbing against the desk, feeling his cheek go numb against the wood. Moran unpacked a book - Shakespeare - and sat down in the desk opposite, quietly beginning to read, while Jim studied him, not trying to be subtle about it as he scanned the boy from top to bottom. For all outward appearances he was exactly what Jim had thought: a dumb athlete.

Reading Shakespeare.

Interesting.

—–

The next day Jim decided a test was in order. He grabbed one of his notebooks - a simple text to him, but his father couldn’t understand a word of it - and brought it to school. When lunch came round, he scanned the canteen until he found the familiar blond head, walking over and dropping the book in front of Moran.

“Edit it for me,” he drawled, and Moran looked up at him in surprise.

“What?”

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes, putting his hands in his pockets casually, ignoring the stares of Moran’s rugby mates sitting around the table.  
“My family is too stupid - most people are - to check that for me. So read it and mark the wrong bits.” There were only two, which Jim had quickly revised in the next notebook, but he wasn’t about to tell the blond.

“Right,” Moran said, looking down at the notebook for a moment, then back at Jim with a grin. “I’ll do what I can, yeah?”

“I should hope so, I’d be rather disappointed if you didn’t,” Jim said, and walked away.

—–

A few days later, Jim got the notebook back. There was quite a lot of scribbling in the margins, and a few sticky notes that said things like, “you lost me here,” and “why the actual hell did you calculate the exact amount of time it would take for a human body to be crushed in a black hole?”

But the two errors were circled, one with the correct answer, and the other with a sticky note that said, “I don’t know what the answer is, but I know it isn’t this.”

Jim had never been so infuriated in his life.

—–

The problem was, now that Jim had gotten his initial impression wrong with Moran, he started second-guessing himself everywhere. And the amount of information to sift through was maddening, once he’d altered his parameters to take it all in, because he didn’t trust his filters anymore.

He couldn’t just ignore what people were reading, because it might be a statement about themselves (Moran reading Shakespeare). Nail polish wasn’t trivial, a change of hairstyle spoke volumes, and was that tobacco on that girl’s dress?

It took him almost a solid week to shift his brain into gear and finally work on some new filters to build his logic on, and wasn’t that just depressing, having to change his way of thinking based on some idiot on the rugby team, honestly.

—–

A couple days after he’d finally managed to get a handle on himself again, Moran caught him after school, about to finish packing up.

“Hey!” he called, and Jim could hardly pretend not to notice him, after he’d decided to announce himself with that volume. “Wait, sorry!”

Jim waited, being smart enough to know that walking away would just mean dealing with whatever this was at a later date. Moran jogged up, his bag on his shoulder lightly as he shifted his feet to look at Jim.

“Moran.”

“You can call me Sebastian, you know. Sorry, I just - did it help, at all, with the book? Because I felt stupid, at points,” he began, and Jim tuned him out after that, because there was something far more interesting than Moran - Sebastian’s - irritating droning - a swimming patch on his old bag.

A feeling not unlike a shiver of lightning went down Jim’s spine. He’d been wrong. Wrong about Sebastian, wrong about the little things he ought to have noticed, and Carl Powers was dead, and his shoes were underneath Jim’s bed, which was good, and Jim wasn’t sorry, but if he’d made a mistake, forgotten to notice someone or something that he shouldn’t have, if he’d done it wrong –

He turned and walked into the janitor’s closet across the hall, needing to think. Sebastian looked surprised, but followed him, still talking, but he stopped when Jim shut the door behind them both and turned to the jock with two quick steps.

“I didn’t do it wrong. Tell me I didn’t do it wrong,” he snarled, grabbing Sebastian’s shirt by the collar and hauling his face down.

Sebastian just blinked. “You didn’t do it wrong,” he said dutifully, and Jim let go for him to straighten up again before he asked, “What didn’t you do wrong?”

Jim shrugged, faking nonchalance. “Oh, I killed someone once.” He realised what he just said a moment too late to unsay it, and focused on keeping his shoulders from tensing. It was silent for a moment, waiting for Sebastian’s reaction, studying the shelves full of cleaner.

“You killed someone?” he asked, and Jim frowned at him.

“Yes, I just said so, listen and comprehend, numbskull.”

Sebastian frowned back, and Jim raised an eyebrow, waiting for the moral telling off, but Sebastian just asked, “What was it like?”

Studying the wall, Jim processed that response (perfect) and answered, “Boring. He flailed for a bit and then just drowned. I was hoping for a little more dramatics. Or at least some blood. You aren’t screaming.”

Snorting, Sebastian scoffed at him. “I want to be a soldier, Jim. Kill people for a living, me. Probably end up abroad, nobody cares about killing people in the Middle East.”

Jim looked sideways at the blond. “Could do that from here,” he drawled, as if it didn’t matter where Sebastian was, which was false, because he should be Jim’s, obviously. What was it like, he’d asked. Useful.

Amused, Sebastian looked him up and down. “Really? Who’s gonna hire me? Are you planning on making it your business? Murder boss?”

“Why not?” Jim asked slowly, mulling it over. “I’m certain plenty of people want somebody or other killed, but haven’t got the guts to do it. Might as well get paid.”

“Right,” Sebastian laughed. “Let me know when you’ve got your little gig set up, I’ll come snipe for you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Jim said darkly, but Sebastian only laughed harder, and opened the door to the closet.

“After you, then, boss,” he chuckled, and Jim rolled his eyes at him, grabbing his things.

 


	2. Jim Only Has His Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is all Jim has.

Jim only has his brother. Out of the entire world, Rich is really the only one he’d care to have continue to live; it’s perfect, he thinks, a balance, between his own dark character, to have oblivious, kindly little Richard tagging along confused behind, so glad that their dad stopped beating them (”he went to France, darling,” he tells Rich) and that they have food (”that nice man took me into his truck to give me this money!”) and completely unaware of Jim’s actual nature.

Most people would be surprised to find Jim cared for anyone, let alone someone as naively optimistic as his brother, but then. Jim’s never given a fuck about what most people would think.

Anyway, at some point, his business starts to take up more and more time, and accrue more and more enemies, and little Rich has actually not done bad for a stage actor who never went to drama school, and Jim hides himself more and more, not wanting people to recognise him and therefore recognise his brother. But it doesn’t help much with the slight tic in the back of his head that worries that someone will put out Richie’s little light, and in the process destroy the antithesis to Jim’s dark.

A bodyguard is necessary, Jim thinks. Not his Sebastian, no, with his scars; that would go badly, Rich is already terrified whenever he visits and Seb answers the door, the great hulk, without even putting a shirt on. Jim had to make up some story about a mugging to calm Richie down, and then had added to the stripes that night to impress on Seb that he always wore a shirt around the little brother. (”Only by two seconds, Jim!”)

So when Severin comes back from Afghanistan, looking similar and with the build and skill of a killer, but with none of the lethal ferocity that Sebastian holds in his eyes, Jim can’t believe his luck.

A bit later he has completely refitted the other Moran in a harmless-looking cardigan and glasses, hair brushed politely and looking far too gentle for the massive bulk he lugs around, and Sebastian is snorting back laughs behind his hand as he surveys his brother. “Oh shut up, Richie will love him,” Jim tells Seb, who tries to school his face.

“It’s perfect,” he tells Jim, and he’s only half joking, to Jim’s surprise. “Rin used to like to read poetry in school. The dopey stuff.”

“Hemmingway isn’t dopey,” Severin defends, only to blush as he realises he’s given himself away.

Jim tilts his head, watching Severin’s muscles tense under the knit as he automatically goes into defensive stance, sensing Jim’s ability to strike even if he doesn’t understand why. “Do you like theatre?” he asks conversationally, and Rin narrows his eyes, but nods.

Jim sighs and clasps his hands like an excited child. “Oh, you’re perfect. Just for me and little Richie. You won’t hurt him, will you? Only he’s special.”

Suddenly the air gets a bit cold, and Severin gets goosebumps as he nods. “I’ll keep him safe.”

“Good,” says Jim, and all the amusement leaves his eyes dark, and Seb’s eyes flicker to meet Rin’s, both men knowing that if this doesn’t go well, they’re likely to end up killing each other some day. Then the atmosphere of the room lightens, and Jim bounces on his toes. “He’ll be over tonight!”

That night Rich comes over, and looks up, up, up, with big brown eyes, at the looming figure of the other Moran. “This is my brother Severin, he’s looking for a place to stay,” Sebastian says, clapping his brother on the shoulder as he walks past, and Rich squeaks out a hello.

“Hello,” says a rather deep, but still gentle voice, and suddenly Richard is relaxing, and Jim watches with amusement as, by the end of the night, Richie has commandeered Severin’s side as a sort of leaning post, legs sprawled out on the couch and shoulder tucked under Severin’s arm.

What he didn’t count on was for Rich to come back a month later and sit down gingerly, Severin more than attentive, and blink those big brown eyes up at cautious blue ones with a small smile.

That night he’s a bit rougher than usual, and Sebastian complains the next morning that it was Jim’s idea, and he slaps him to shut him up.

But he leaves Severin and Richie in peace. After all.

Jim only has his brother.


	3. He Swears In Several Languages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend once said: "I always had the headcanon Seb would swear in Hindi or Arabic."

Oh I’m sure he has several languages

I kind of picture him swearing in German at Jim cause it can be loud and intimidating but also because he can shout pet names and it still sounds scary “FICK DICH ENTZÜCKENDES KLIENES FRETTCHEN"

But when he’s on a job it’s Hindi and Arabic and Pashto- "bakavāsa bakavāsa kus modar ebn el sharmoota FUCK FUCK FUCK” 


	4. Terminally Unimpressed Moran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dynamic

I think my MorMor dynamic is basically terminally unimpressed Moran, and Jim loves it because he literally can spend hours trying to provoke a reaction and for once it’s not terribly boring

Like he can do things to Seb that no sane person would deal with and Seb’s just like “oh Jim’s throwing razors again I should probably get the antiseptic and plasters”

 **deadhawkanddeadhawke** _ **:** Yes exactly with a bit of _seb _running around after Jim like he’s a troublesome child_

Yes that precisely

No Jim don’t bite the child

No Jim I am not going skinny dipping in Russia mid-winter

No Jim I don’t think we should go to a luau that sounds like trouble waiting to happen

No Jim I am not going to eat that - what is that - still no

No Jim you may not have more caffeine today you’re acting like the Road Runner

No Jim I will not help you steal the moon, nor will I wear overalls, and we are not going to ever see Despicable Me 2


	5. Actual Sebastian Moran Morals

Actual Sebastian Moran morals:  
“Shooting is never consensual. Sex always should be.”


	6. Seb and Jim Once had a Fight

Seb and Jim once had a fortnight-long fight, at the end of which some rules were established: Jim can dress Moran for meetings and evenings out, but if Jim tags along on a mission, Seb gets to choose clothes. This has led to Sebastian going to the opera in a leash, ropes, and some very suggestive glittery pants. It has also led to Jim shooting a man whilst in a very tight hello kitty unitard and cat ears. The deal lasted until The Elton John Incident, which shall never be spoken of again.


	7. Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinnermoriarty on tumblr sent me this combo: [mormor, and “I sent a selfie of myself in the tub to the wrong number and you responded back with another selfie. Holy shit you’re really attractive.”]
> 
> It became, of course, textfic, with just a few outtakes. :)

 

Moran made a face at his mobile - he’d meant to send that message to his current partner-in-crime, a rather finicky man named Thomas who would have gone slightly manic upon seeing Sebastian make a mess.

Apparently not. Apparently it had gotten sent to a completely gorgeous… Businessman? He had a suit.

But the point was that it had got sent to Mr. Gorgeous and not only did Mr. Gorgeous reply without mauling him about the wrong number, but he had a fantastic sense of humour and was willing to play along.

Seb was going to ignore this entire exchange.

And he did. He went out, got some food, did a hit, broke a game at the arcade by punching too hard, evaded the two-for-a-penny shop security and came home…

And then entirely failed at not sending a text back.

  
Sebastian blinked, barked out a laugh, and put down the phone to continue packing. He was nearly finished when the phone began to sing an unfamiliar ringtone.

 _Doodly_ doop doop doodle doodle _doodly_ doop doop _doodle aw you can tell by the way I use my walk I’m a woman’s man no time to-_

Moran grabbed at it, bringing it to his ear without saying hello.

“You’re still packing. Why are you still packing?” a petulant Irish voice demanded, and Seb began to chuckle. “What? What did I miss?!” the man on the other end of the phone insisted.

“I figured I’d better be ready to go wherever the new job required, boss,” Moran replied, stressing the last word to both make his point and also sound as sarcastic as possible.

"Oh!” said the caramel voice, and certain parts of Sebastian took notice, and then the voice demanded, “London, my bedroom, four hours. I’ll text you the coordinates. Don’t be late.”

The phone went dead, a ping announced a text, and Sebastian grabbed his bag. This looked promising.

He scrolled back up to the picture of Jim in the bath. This looked very promising indeed.


	8. Pic-and-Mix

I definitely think Sebastian Moran is the sort of person who would totally get away with murder but then nearly get caught by shops security for stealing pic-and-mix. Just saying. 


	9. Marvel MorMorMor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is... literally... complete rambling.

Also this is also completely off topic but I’ve been thinking about it for like two hours and now I need to rant.  
Moran twins subjected to testing to try to duplicate wolverine’s healing factor.  
For unknown reasons it works perfectly on Sebastian but goes all deadpool on Severin.  
Cue the brothers meeting Jim a bit later. They both fall head over heels. They’re both constantly trying to kill each other to get Jim all to themselves- but of course they can’t cause healing factor.  
Jim likes both but thinks the fights are hilarious. The sex is rough and he’s not at all bothered by severin’s appearance because this is Jim and he’s fucked up and on his bad days he likes to see if he can carve all the cancer out of severin’s body, which turns them both on and by the time Seb gets home there’s blood all over the floor and he barely gets in on the end of the action.   
  
Just… >.> healing factor MorMorMor.   
  
I kinda like the idea of Severin being pissed that Seb still looks good and adding scars   
They only last for about a week but that just means he gets to do it again   
Once they meet Jim of course he gets in on the fun…   
  
Also can I just say that the Moran twins were definitely fucking before Jim   
Like that was a thing okay  
I dunno like MorMorMor shippers tend to gloss over that but no  
Like the Moran twins lived in a bubble of “them” before Jim and Jim is the only one who’s managed to climb in  
But yeah morcest was a definite thing it was not a Jim invention   
  
Also like it’s totally one of the reasons that they keep trying to kill each other after Jim cause they both loath and love each other and themselves I mean they’ve been together for so long and they’ve never had to doubt the other even though they kinda hate that they’re stuck with each other they know they’d never leave   
  
But Jim is different and Jim can leave and Jim can choose one or the other and that scares the crap out of them both and even though they know they can’t die they’ll still try to blow out each other’s brains in the night because losing Jim to the other one is terrifying   
  
When Jim is bored he just pretends to get fonder of one over the other and waits for the gunfire and explosions…   
  
[deadhawkanddeadhawke: Yes thank you  
And Seb pretends he’s not jealous in front of Jim   
Just plays it off as brother hatred even tho Jim knows better ]   
  
Yes. Like they’re both totally fine with it and if one of them actually died the other would be really torn up but that doesn’t stop them from being jealous as hell  
  
They’re a mass of contradictions   
  
Bonus points if Jim has also managed to get a wolverine-style healing factor but doesn’t tell the twins and actually does blow out his brains on the rooftop and fakes being dead because A) he’s a little shit and B) he knows how ENRAGED the twins will be that he DARED to die for Sherlock’s sake instead of for one of them   
  
Also I think maybe Jim’s just a mutant, like he never went through labs or testing, he was just born with it, which explains his continual apathy toward death and also explains why the twins wouldn’t know; because there was no hidden past army testing to find, it was just his birthright.   
  
Bonus points if this just adds to how pissed off the twins are once they realise he’s alive because their healing factors were painful and terrible things to acquire and Jim’s just like “yeah it’s in my genes, and you can be too”


	10. How Sebastian Wants You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim figures it out.

Jim doesn’t find out Seb wants him from his pupils, or his pulse, or a hormone-laden confession. There’s not even an “as you wish”-style code phrase.

He realises it because he’s at home deleting CCTV of Sebastian’s latest fight, and he notices a pattern: man attacks Moran, Moran defends himself and immediately follows with a kill strike. Every time.

Jim goes back through every fight he can remember. It’s a consistent factor in all of them. You don’t attack Sebastian Moran and live.

Except Jim’s thrown darts at him when bored. Even razors, once. He’s only managed to nick him once or twice (Moran’s reflexes are fan-fucking-tastic) but every time Sebastian’s only sighed and either dodged, caught, or batted them aside.

Jim jumped on him in bed to wake him up last week and all he got was a low groan and “Seriously, boss? It’s fucking two-thirty.”

He’s pointed a gun at him and while Moran ducked behind a pillar there was no answering muzzle peeking out from the edge.

So when Sebastian comes home Jim decides to test it; the sniper barely closes the door before Jim has him pinned up against the wall with his face smashed into the wallpaper. And he can feel the body pressed up to his begin to tense, and a foot turns, and he knows that Moran could break this hold in less than a second.

But he doesn’t - he holds still, letting Jim capture him. So Jim hisses in his ear, “Bedroom.”

And he knows he’s calculated correctly when there’s a sharp breath and then an answering rumble of, “Fucking finally.”


	11. Self-Harm and Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-harm TW. A friend wondered if Jim would self-harm or if it was too OOC.

I don’t know if it’s OOC, though. Like I think maybe for uni!Jim that could be totally in character

The problem is that I think I empathise too much with these damn bastards cause like when I was struggling the reason I didn’t self-harm was the sheer pragmatics so I don’t have that in their characterisations either

Dunno

Like, we know Jim has masochistic tendencies and before Moran it’s not like he could show weakness to anyone in the empire he was building so I can actually see self-harm!Jim being in-character

Cause there was no tiger to come home and pounce and rip his clothes off and leave finger-shaped bruises on his neck and make his head go fuzzy with the pleasure-pain of it while he used his fingernails like claws on a scarred chest and grabbed dangling dog tags to pull him closer

The closest he could get to that is locking himself in his room and watching lines of red grow on his thighs and feeling like it’s not enough and throwing the knife at the door

Yeah not OOC really.


	12. MorMor Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim has terrible taste in music.

I’m listening to my “Jim you have terrible taste in music mix”  
Aka the list of 90’s music, terrible pop songs, and random rock that I can totally see Jim setting long-suffering Moran missions to

It puts me in a good mood for some reason

Possibly because I just picture Jim’s grin and Moran’s long sigh every time he sticks the earbuds in

Moran sticks his earbuds in and hears the beginning of “ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!!” And just a whole list of inventive swear words under his breath

And Jim is totally listening with a bug and bursts out into inappropriate giggles

“Can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene, boss.”

“Oh god if his little doctor only knew, tiger!“

Jim’s taste in music gets worse and worse as he searches for more terrible songs for Seb to do shit to

And the best moment for Moran is when he’s on his stomach in a swimming pool and Jim’s phone goes off

It’s all he can do not to bust out laughing but Jim can definitely hear his muffled snickers in the earbud

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly so Seb can see it without the scope and says, "mind if I get that?”


	13. Fuck This Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A New Game (Suicide TW)

 

[obligatory very short textfic tag]


	14. Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a healthy relationship.

Moran falls asleep waiting for a hit and misses the man  
He feels terrible and Jim is furious beyond belief and the next six months are borderline torture and he just takes all the sadism Jim doles out on him because he feels he deserves it

Until he finds sleeping pills he knows he didn’t buy hidden in a drawer

Six are missing

He goes feral when Jim comes home and just gets more furious as he screams and punches cause Jim has this shit-eating grin on his face the whole damn time and it’s hard to punish a masochist with your fists

But then that does explain why he didn’t leave over the past six months as well


	15. Tongue Twister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have strange thoughts at 3 am.

My brain is weird  
But for some reason I came up with a tongue twister that is now stuck in my head

“How many shots would a slammed Seb shoot if a slammed Seb had sipped shots?”

I don’t even know

Like it just came into my brain with an image of Jim singing it in his nursery-rhyme voice while Moran drunkenly points his gun at the darts target at a pub

People are terrified and Jim is delighted


	16. Emojis

Can you imagine the week after Jim discovers emojis   
All Seb’s missions are just addresses and strings of little pictures he has to decipher

He fucking hates it but on the other hand he basically gets to make up his mission plans


	17. Scrapbooks

Moriarty sent a message with the Sherlock pics. "sending you a treat." Thus: Jim and Irene totally have matching scrapbooks of surveillance photos of Sherlock. Sebastian had to buy those special scissors that cut the scrolled fancy edges. He's entirely exasperated.


	18. Jim from IT

Also the person I'm watching Sherlock with just pointed out that someone had to teach the blind woman how to use the phone to call Sherlock. I'm picturing Jim using his newfound IT skills to teach this old lady how to use the phone. That or Moran having to set her up. "Okay, so I'm gonna put the call up, you just press this button, okay lady?"


	19. Smooth Criminal

*muffled "smooth criminal" in distance* Okay so a thing--I _need_ \--Is Jim planning something to smooth criminal. Totally jamming out in front of a whiteboard of figures and notes and diagrams. Sebastian is enamoured and kinda scared--Jim can do the moonwalk and knows all the words. I can just picture Andrew Scott doing it, is the thing.


	20. They're Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy weird.

Like Seb comes home and Jim's all excited and bouncing up and down and takes his hand and leads him downstairs and there's this massive thing covered with a sheet and Jim swishes it off with a voila! to reveal a medieval-style torture rack. And Seb stares at it for a moment before this slow grin spreads over his face as Jim bounces and watches and then Seb rumbles out, "we are going to have SO MUCH sex on that thing."


	21. Russia

Narrator voice: Jim is terrifying on Russian vodka.  
Strip poker involves a machine gun and more shots than even Sebastian wants to drink.   
It ends with every scrap of his clothing full of bullet holes and Jim sitting there with a maniacal grin. Of course the bastard hasn’t even lost his fucking tie.  
After one more round agreed to at gunpoint Moran finds himself doing a lap of the building, starkers, with his footprints hissing behind him as hot bullets strike snow. And then Jim threatened to cut his finger off when they ran out of booze, like it was his fault.  
He fucking hates Russia now.


End file.
